A round of morning-awkwardness
by Isolith
Summary: Caffeine-free mornings and Andy Flynn do not compute; much less when it involves other human beings, tea absurdum and the prospect of staring at lips.


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_Summary: Caffeine-free mornings and Andy Flynn do not compute; much less when it involves other human beings, tea absurdum and the prospect of staring at lips. _

_A/N: This is brought to you by silliness – major silliness =D _

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**A round of morning-awkwardness. **

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Andy Flynn's craving coffee – in a bad way.

Up until now he had been under the impression that he would be able to toughen it out; thought he would be able to go without the bitter liquid but he was wrong – so he has made a deal with himself. He'll give up everything else but coffee – he'll stick to the obnoxious diet otherwise, no salt, no sugar – hell he'll even stop complaining about the pill he's currently taking. Really it had been idiotic and downright absurd to expect himself to simply give it up. It's not unlike expecting a car to run without gasoline – pointless.

Now, this decision is a relative recent one – he made it five seconds ago watching Julio strutting by with a cup of coffee in his hands, the steam wafting in the air; Andy smells it the moment the detective goes by his desk. Just the smell of coffee and it goes directly to his brain and Andy's unable to think about anything but coffee. He's tired and cranky; his house is devoid of anything caffeinated, so seeing everyone dangle in and out of the break room carrying cups of coffees and bearing serene smiles – that does it for his resolve.

Andy stands up and stalks to the break room – his body already tingling at the prospect of a warm cup.

There's only Provenza in the break room, throwing out coffee into the sink, the coffee pot in his hands.

"What the hell are you doing!" Andy exclaims, horrified, looking at his partner throwing out the remaining coffee in the coffee pot.

"Huh," Provenza turns around, feigning surprise.

Andy rolls his eyes and goes to the cabinet where they usually stock their little lair of grounded coffee beans, "Gee, thanks old man, you could have saved some for me," he opens the cabinet and stares at what is without a doubt not even remotely coffee. It's filled with a variety of teas, all neatly stacked; "What the -"

Obviously Andy has not looked in the cabinet for a long time – there's always been a pot of warm coffee in the break room and it's been what - nearly a year since he's last had to do the honors of starting up the coffee machine. The assortments of teas, however, are a new addition.

Provenza interrupts, "You're on a caffeine-free diet, remember?" Andy looks back over his shoulder, watching as Provenza gives him an arched eyebrow, muttering, "Mr. Grumpy."

"I heard that," Andy says angrily even if he feels especially grumpy today, "And I've decided to change my diet – not that it's any of your business, old man."

Provenza only shrugs with an insincere smile.

"Where's our coffee?" Andy asks, feeling the beginnings of a headache or two – damn, he abhors tea.

"We're all out," Provenza sounds too cheerful, "it's Friday – you know, we usually restock over the weekend."

Andy shakes his head, feeling despondent and angry all of a sudden.

"You threw it out on purpose – the last coffee," he points at Provenza, his voice rising reproachfully.

Provenza shrugs nonchalantly, "It was getting cold," he then moves past Andy, his own cup full to the brim with black, hot coffee – Andy catches the not so hidden smirk on his partners face. Why, the idiot did do it on purpose.

Andy glares harder, "You're one mean old -"

Provenza interrupts once again, cutting short the obscenity, "Just looking out for that high blood pressure of yours, my friend."

Andy feels livid, hot irate tension bubbling up inside of him – he feels ready to tackle something or someone.

Provenza merely waves and then quickly leaves the break room, Andy cursing his retreating heels. Provenza is already gone and all Andy can do is mumble under his breath 'I'll give you high blood pressure'.

He sighs and then looks in the cabinet again, hell-bent on finding something caffeinated between the stacks of green teas and white teas – and for heaven's sake he won't be surprised if there are pink teas in there as well. He's suddenly feeling an irrational anger at all the tea. Who in their right mind have restocked the break room with an entire year's worth of tea? All those fancy brands – it looks expensive – and utterly ridiculous. Who the fuck drinks tea anyway!

Andy scoots the different brands aside, looking for something; he would not even mind instant coffee in this moment. He vehemently takes out all the teas, sorting through them on the counter; he almost throws everything out in the trash.

"Good morning, Andy," comes a warm voice behind him, sounding cheerful just like Provenza.

"Morning, Captain," Andy mumbles back, mind exclusively on finding coffee. He's not in any luck; there's absolutely no coffee in the cabinet whatsoever.

The Captain comes to stand beside him, giving him a curious look, "What kind of tea are you looking for?" she smiles kindly, then takes a teabag from the little mess he's made on the counter. She puts the teabag in her empty orange cup, "There's a Persian blend to die for," she brings up the mentioned Persian packet and gives him another encouraging smile, flashing the packet in front of him as if it's somehow made of gold.

Of course, he thinks then, it all makes sense now – no one but Sharon Raydor would stock the entire break room with tea.

He arches an eyebrow at her, "I'm looking for coffee."

"Oh," her smile falters a fraction and he feels uncomfortable now, remembering it's not her fault Provenza's a conniving asshole.

Andy sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Don't mind me – I'm in a bad mood."

She pats his upper arm in what he assumes is meant to be reassuring – it tingles and he can feel heat travelling up his neck, "Alright, lieutenant," she pauses and her lips quirk in amusement, "There's actually a tea blend called _pick me up_, maybe that's something for you?'"

He shakes his head but can't hide his smile from her, "I'm not a tea kind of guy, sorry Captain."

She returns his smile.

She moves to the water kettle, fills it with new water and waits for it to boil; out of the corner of her eye she watches him, giving him another warm smile when he catches her.

"Persian blend," he says, mouth half crooked, holding the packet up to scrutinize it, "Is it caffeinated?"

She shakes her head, "Not even remotely."

"Oh."

"I have decaf instant coffee in my handbag – if you want?"

He gives her a wry look, then drawls, "Instant and decaf all at the same time – why, Captain, I think that's just going over the top."

She chuckles and he smiles back.

The kettle click and she pours water in her cup. She lets it rest and then she fixes a conspiratorial smile on him. He watches her, feeling quite captivated. She looks up with a glint in her eye and then she takes something out of the handbag over her shoulder and holds it behind her. She comes up, standing before him, the same gleeful look as she regards him.

"I noticed we were running low on coffee yesterday so I took the liberty," she holds a little bag of grounded coffee beans in her hands, offering it to him, "of buying this delicious Indonesian blend."

Her smile deepens and the little glint in her eyes expands; she's quite adorable when she smiles like this, he thinks.

"You're a lifesaver," he returns the warm smile, "I could kiss you."

Her eyes go wide and her lips twitch.

It's only when she continues to look at him wide-eyed he realizes what he has said; there's a reason his body needs caffeine apparently, otherwise he's in no control of what comes out of his mouth.

The room feels warm all of a sudden and he tries not to look at her lips – trying being the operate word; her tongue flicks out for a second and he's staring.

"Errr - I mean – I could kiss you but I'm not – hehe, I mean – I'm not going to kiss you," he gives another nervous laugh, "Not now, nor ever, Sharon – uh, I mean Captain." He's making a fool of himself, feeling awfully awkward now; his face must be red like a goddamn tomato. Why is he talking about never kissing her? What's wrong with him!

He notices a red tint on her cheeks and thinks she's feeling awkward as well, her smile firmly in place still – but it's as if it has become petrified; she laughs with him – just as nervously.

She practically throws the coffee blend into his arms, returning another awkward laugh and then she backs away, rolling up the sleeve of her blazer and looking at her watch, "Umm – sorry, lieutenant I gotta a phone call with, um, you know, " she looks up at him, baffled for a second and then, "with Taylor – with Chief Taylor."

He cradles the coffee bag to his chest, feeling awfully ridiculous – why didn't he just say thank you like a normal human being?

"Umm, yeah," he stutters unable to come up with anything – he's not sure there's any word yet invented that'll be able to save this situation.

"Umm, okay," she stutters back, eyes still wide.

He watches her; she's backing away – as if it's too dangerous to turn her back on him. He tries to look anywhere but her but his eyes return naturally to her just in time to see her line of collision with the edge of a table if she's not careful, "Sharon, watch out -"

Too late.

"Ouch," she puffs out, immediately followed by a small giggle.

Her eyes close, her hand going to her temple in quiet surrender; her lips compress and he's not sure whether she's about to cry or laugh. When she opens her eyes again they land on him and she's all smiles and self-conscious chuckles.

He chuckles with her, "That outta have hurt."

She purses her lips, "You think." Her lips tremble with another laugh and he thinks she might be even more adorable in this moment than the previous – his lips slide into a wide smile.

She quickly hoists her handbag more firmly over her shoulder and then she gives him a little wave that's not really a wave but an awkward salute, two fingers in the air – he waves back at her in the same fashion, feeling equally awkward. She's out of the glass door before he can utter another word.

Great, he thinks to himself, just great.

He shakes his head, a little annoyed with himself, a little annoyed at Provenza – it's his entire fault anyway. If only the old bastard had saved some coffee for Andy then none of this would have happened.

Andy takes out a coffee filter and puts in some of the new blend; it smells absolutely delicious – just like she said. He sighs, the breath drawn out. He feels all weird now – it kind of feels like a dizziness of some kind only he's not really dizzy.

He looks at the mess on the counter, tea packets everywhere; he sighs again. He organizes everything again, putting everything back in the cabinet, wondering if there was an order to how they were stacked – most likely he thinks. She will probably organize them again, once he's not in the break room – maybe she'll sneak out here and resort everything when everyone else is out chasing down suspects.

He sighs, waiting for the coffee to brew. Then he notices her cup – the orange cup with her tea in it. She forgot it in her hurry to avoid being in the same room as him.

He sighs again.

He takes the orange cup. He's going to deliver it to her and show her he can be absolutely normal and not awkward – show her that he can talk to her without looking at her goddamn lips.

He stalks through the break room, mind everywhere but where his feet are going; he doesn't see her –and she doesn't really see him; they collide, the warm tea in the cup going everywhere. Hot liquid burning his hand and a part of his clothed thigh.

"Shit"

"Oh god"

He looks up, horrified. Her blazer and white blouse is drenched, blotches that seep into the cloth and makes it practically see-through; he doesn't notice he's too busy finding paper towels, a whole handful in each hand as he tries to clear away the hot liquid from her blouse and blazer.

He finds her eyes on him; that wide look once again, her lips slightly apart – she's even breathing a little irregularly – he realizes his hands are practically on her breasts and he notices the outline of her bra then, the way her blouse now clings to her skin.

His clothes are now hot as well, unbearable really, his tongue flicking out and licking suddenly dry lips.

Why are his hands still on her? Shit; he's screwing everything up!

He quickly retreats, awkwardly putting the paper towels in her hands, "Sorry," he pauses, taking her expression that looks like a mix of horror and happiness to mean she's a bit stunned as well, "Shit, I'm so sorry , Captain. You okay?"

She shakes her head, mouth opening slowly, "No, no – it's my fault," her voice is raspy and low, and goddamn he's looking at her lips again – he tries to avert his eyes but they land on her chest and that's not any better.

"No, no – I didn't look where I was going," he disagrees.

"No, I was in a hurry – didn't see you," she counters, voice still low.

She's trying to get the water out of the blouse now but it's nothing but a disaster he thinks, watching as she dabs the damp towels on her blouse, across her chest.

He gulps, "You sure you aren't burned?"

She hums, eyes on her blouse.

She looks up and tries to reassure him with a smile; he only re-focusses on her lips again.

Andy feels like cursing himself; "I'll make you some new tea, huh?"

She nods, "I'll just go, um," she points in the direction of her office, "and change into something else."

He nods and watches her leave, yet another awkward salute.

He quietly makes her another tea, his own coffee done as well. He then takes his coffee cup in one hand and her orange cup in his other hand, braving her office. The blinds are closed and he halts outside her door, hesitating; she's probably changing. He knocks with his elbow, awaiting her answer. She opens the door almost immediately and he's not ready to be looking at her so close up; his heart starts galloping and it's uncomfortably warm again – he wonders if there's something wrong with the thermostat on their floor. She's wearing a t-shirt now, black and snug.

"Here's your tea, Captain," he holds out the cup and tries to pretend everything is perfectly normal – tries to pretend he's not staring at her again.

"Oh, thank you," she seems to have forgotten whatever happened in the break room or maybe she's just really good at ignoring it; she takes the cup from him, her hands around her cup, her lips around the rim and he watches as she drinks, a little sigh of pleasure leaving her lips when she finishes, "Mm-hm."

He coughs, feeling uncomfortable again – the same mantra that's been going around in his head for at least a month now haunting him again; _don't look at her lips, don't look at her lips._

"Thank you, Andy," she says, standing close and looking up at him, a warm and grateful look in her eyes.

"Sure thing," he says, looking at her lips, "Sharon."

They end up standing like that, staring at each other; yes, it's Nicole's wedding all over again – only it seems to have worsened – it seems to have progressed to downright gazing and silly smiles.

Provenza coughs behind them, "We've gotta a call from the morgue."

They both turn around, regarding Provenza in the doorway.

"We're rolling," Provenza elaborates, rolling his eyes in mock-annoyance, "There's been a murder."

Andy strolls after his Captain and Provenza, hoping no one notices the way he's now looking at her legs in the skirt she's wearing – hoping he'll be able to stop looking at her as the day progresses. Maybe, he thinks when he sips his coffee, maybe he just needs a lot of coffee in his system and that'll do the trick. Maybe coffee will prevent him from gazing at her – he's not sure if it's what he really wants. He's not sure why his body still feels so warm – maybe he has a fever? That would explain a lot, actually. He always does stupid things when he's sick.

Yes, he decides almost with relief, he's sick.

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End file.
